


Soup Mopper

by messofthejess



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: AU where everything is the same except Soul's weapon form is a mop, Gen, Humor, Joke Fic, References to Canon, and all the other weapons are cleaning supplies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 22:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8552725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messofthejess/pseuds/messofthejess
Summary: Taken from the Tumblr prompt "AU where everything is the same except Soul's weapon form is a mop."





	

            _Ever since I was a little girl, I always wanted to be a great janitor, just like Mama._

            That had been the thought on Maka’s mind before this fight began. Now that Soul had decided to be completely useless, however, and just fling dirty water at the witch they were fighting, that dream looked farther away than ever.

            “Try to catch me, girlie!” Blair cried, lobbing a fistful of pumpkin guts at them for the twentieth time. Maka managed to dodge, gritting her teeth.

            “Can you do _something_ ,” she hissed down at the wooden handle, “other than just drip in her general direction?”

            “I’m not the one that forgot the bucket at home!” The eye down where the mop head met the handle furrowed and glared up at Maka. She stuck her tongue out at him, only to get splatted in the face with rotting pumpkin.

            “Oh, come on! This is hardly fun at all, you’re making this too easy!” Blair crooned. “Hmm, maybe your mop doesn’t want to do any cleaning at all, huh, girlie?”

            “Don’t. Call. Me. Girlie,” Maka snarled.

            “Hey there, mop-boy, is that girl of yours giving you a hard time? Why don’t you come live in my closet? You wouldn’t ever have to clean again if you didn’t want to. I like my house nice and _dirty_ , if you catch my drift.”

            “Huh? Soul?” Maka asked as the wooden handle flashed out of her hands. “W-what are you doing?”

            Soul trudged over to where Blair stood, his yellow shoes clomping. “I’m sick of cleaning up the world, Maka,” he said, putting an arm over the witch’s shoulders. “Why can’t we have just a few things out of place here and there, huh? I think this witch has got the right idea.”

            Tears stung at the corners of Maka’s eyes like lemon furniture polish. She collapsed to the cobblestones, her fists balled at her sides. “God…you’re just like the rest of them. All of you, horrible. Every man, cheating on every woman. Making the world filthier instead of doing something to help clean it up. I wish you all would just die!”

            She kept her eyes trained on the cracks between the bricks in front of her. “What reason to men have for cheating?! It isn’t fair!”

            Soul cracked a sharp smile. “How should I know? Cool guys don’t cheat on their partners.” His arm transformed into a mop head with dirty white strands, sopping over Blair’s shoulder. He offered his free hand out. “ _Maka!_ ”

            Maka looked up, finally absorbed what was going on, and grabbed her partner’s hand. It transformed into the familiar wooden handle she knew so well, and she swung towards Blair’s head as hard as possible. The witch burst into thousands of soapy bubbles, a bright purple orb hanging in the middle of it all. Maka couldn’t help but watch as the bubbles drifted away into the night sky, giggling as a few popped on her nose. Soul reached for the purple orb, bringing it up close to his face.

            “Well, we did it. This is the last one,” he smirked over at his partner. “With this, I’ll become one of Lord Death’s own cleaning supplies.”

            _Yes you will, Soul,_ Maka thought, pink tickling her cheeks. _Thank you for that._

            Soul opened his mouth wide and swallowed the soul like a Hoover swallows up dirt, feeling it slither down his throat. Strange, he didn’t feel any different. In fact, he felt pretty much the same, except for now his stomach had decided to take up beginning salsa lessons. And there was something very fluffy twining around his ankles. And that very fluffy thing was purring.

            He shared a worried look with Maka, and they both looked down at the cat at Soul’s feet, who had decided to plop down and lick down the length of her back leg. She looked up at the two of them with Blair’s yellow eyes, and their hearts sank.

            “I never said I was a witch, did I? You only assumed that. I’m actually just a very, very powerful kitty cat,” Blair purred. “And for your information, I keep myself _very_ clean. Baths are my favorite thing!”

            “Oh no,” Soul groaned.

            “That means…we _failed_ ,” Maka sighed, hitting the pavement with her knees again. She was never going to be a three-star janitor at this rate.

****

            “You know you aren’t required to make cleaning weapons, Kid. As a Death Cleaner, you’re in line to take over the Academy.”

            “Yes,” Kid replied, plucking at one of his feather dusters so the feathers were all perfectly in line, “but I want to make supplies to fit my own specifications.”

            “As you wish,” Lord Death shrugged, turning back to polish his mirror.

            “I think I’d like to enroll in the Academy as a janitor as well. It would serve me well, and give Liz and Patty some structure, too.”

            “As if we don’t have enough structure already!” Liz groaned from her spot in Kid’s palm. “You’ve been plucking my feathers for twenty minutes!”

            “Because _you_ haven’t seen fit to do it!” Kid snapped back. “How can you expect to tidy up the world when you won’t keep yourself tidy?”

            “Teehee! He’s right, sis,” Patty giggled from where she was tucked into Kid’s waistband. “You do look kinda scruffy.”

            “Forgive me for not preening! I’m not a bird.”

            “In any case,” Kid said, “I’m heading down to registration. Then to the bookstore. I’m sure they have shelves that need dusting.” He turned on his heel and clicked out of the Death Room, the white lace trim on his fitted black peplum jacket flouncing behind him.

            Lord Death watched Kid go. When the door closed behind him, Lord Death scooped up the empty paper towel roll he’d been using and made to move toward the supply closet. A loud beeping by his feet interrupted him.

            “Justin!” Lord Death beamed. “You’re so efficient I’d forgotten you were still here!”

            The tiny white Roomba with a skull printed on top of it whirled around in robotic glee. Lord Death bent down and patted the robot with one of his giant hands with pride.

            “Well, don’t let me keep you from what you were doing. _Ganbatte,_ Justin-san!”

            Justin spun around with the sense of purpose that only automatic cleaning devices possess and made a beeline for the series of guillotines that lined the way to the Death Room door. He bumped into the first one, made a confused beep, then tried to move again with no success. It took several tries before Lord Death could stop chuckling behind his mask and help his distressed, beloved servant out.

***

            “It’s been a while since we teamed up like this,” Spirit commented as Stein whirled him around and around to dodge Medusa’s attacks.

            “I agree. Not since the great Janitor Olympics,” Stein quipped. He brought Spirit down with a definite _crack_ on Medusa’s head, but the witch deflected with one of her sludge snakes, coating the red bristles of the broom with the foul stuff. Damn her, she was good.

            Marie was on the sidelines, waiting and humming to herself. Stein told her to stay hidden behind the pillars until he could get a good opportunity to tag Spirit out, but that time hadn’t come yet. She figured it was because he was trying to tire Medusa out—the witch had seemingly endless stamina for one so steeped in filth all the time. Her sludge snakes were starting to waver, though, her magic getting sloppy. The floor had been coated with nasty dark green slime, but Stein had either swept it out of his path with Spirit or figured out how to dance gracefully through it. Marie was just thankful he didn’t choose to wear his Heelys to the damn reception tonight, otherwise he _really_ would have been screwed.

            “Marie!” he called out, and she knew her time had come. She dashed through the remaining slime on the floor and leapt into his arms; he caught and dipped her almost like how they’d been dancing upstairs. Was that hours or minutes ago? It was so hard to tell down in the basement of the Academy. In any case, she flashed into her cleaning form: the Vacuum Cleaner of God, with enough suction power to make any Dyson weep.

            She didn’t get to do much sucking, though, because Stein had apparently had it up to his neck with playing Medusa’s dirty games. He swung Marie around like a baseball bat and caught the witch in the side, knocking the wind out of her. Marie switched on her brush roll, and Stein started running her over Medusa’s face, then clubbing her again once it looked like the witch was trying to get up.

            Honestly, Marie had always strived for a domestic life. But she could get used to this battle for cleanliness.

**Author's Note:**

> I am tired and I am so sorry.


End file.
